


take you higher than before

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Frottage, M/M, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 19:01:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5386892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something is up with Louis, but he won't tell Liam what's wrong, instead choosing to be a menace, getting on everyone's last nerve.</p><p>Liam decides to get to the bottom of it, and if that includes teaching Louis a lesson about behaving, then so be it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take you higher than before

**Author's Note:**

> This is 100% entirely Rachel's fault. Thank you to Jarka for the beta & the encouragement!
> 
> Title from Years & Years' "Ties"

Louis is a menace. It’s in his DNA, probably, for how deep it seems to be ingrained in him, and he likes to shake things up. Liam can respect that, even enjoys it most of the time.

The thing is, today has been much, much worse than the rest.

“You made her _cry_ ,” says Liam, still a bit aghast.

Louis shrugs, appearing unrepentant, but there’s tension coiled tight in his shoulders, and Liam knows him better than that. “She needed to do her research. I’m sick of answering the same questions.”

Liam sighs. “That doesn’t mean you can be mean to people,” he tries, but Louis is having none of it, already brushing Liam off and moving on. He’s been proper diva all day, and it’s getting exhausting to try to keep him in line. It hasn’t been this bad since they were teenagers, new to the fame and wide-eyed with the scale of it all. Since they needed games to keep the stage fright at bay, and Louis was always at the helm of it all, the leader they didn’t quite realize they needed until he’d already established himself as one.

They had another interview with a radio station after this one, but apparently Louis canceled it without telling the rest of them, promising a phone call next week instead. That just leaves the show this afternoon, a matinee, and then they’re back to the hotel until their flights tomorrow.

Liam tries asking what’s wrong more than once, but Louis freezes him out, and then it’s time to go to the venue and Liam isn’t any closer to figuring it out.

They pile into the cars quickly and quietly, stunned pliant by the abrupt end to the last interview, and Liam ends up in a car with Harry, Niall and Louis in the other one. “That was weird,” says Liam, and he feels like he can’t sit still. “She was so upset.”

Harry looks equally distraught. He’d been the one trying to patch it up, in the end, taking her aside and talking to her in a low voice, apologizing for Louis’ behavior. “She’s new to the station,” answers Harry. “Said she might lose her job. I told her I’d call the station manager, let them know it wasn’t her fault.”

“Good,” says Liam. She was new, too, christ. It explains why she seemed so nervous, he guesses. “I have no idea why Louis was so terrible, he just-”

“Just, like, one of his moods, innit?”

Liam nods. “Yeah,” he says, “but…” He trails off. He was going to say that usually it’s more, and Louis goes to Eleanor to deal with things like this, or to Zayn. One of them always used to handle him when it got to be too much, but now Louis must be dealing with whatever it is that he’s dealing with on his own.

Harry shrugs like he knows where Liam was going with that, and turns back to his phone.

Liam is quiet the rest of the way back, thinking.

//

If Liam thought he could get away with telling Louis off during the concert, he would.

He’s a nightmare from start to finish, pinching and smacking in a way that genuinely seems more malicious than it is playful, and normally Liam is perfectly up to the task of matching Louis blow for blow, but he’s tired, and Louis is looking for a reaction.

Liam will give him one, but not right now. Not in front of all these people.

He sees Niall flinch across the stage as Louis squeezes his shoulder this side of too tight, and runs over to intervene, pulling Niall aside in some ridiculous dance and forcing Louis to take up the space he’d left unoccupied. At least he calms down when he’s waving to fans and focusing on singing.

That said, though, the show is still exhausting, and Liam thinks his hair has actually grayed since this morning. As they walk off after the final bow, he murmurs, “come to my room when we get back,” into Louis’ ear.

Nothing is that simple, though. Of course it isn’t, and after he waits for half an hour in his room, he sets off to find Louis.

_Band meeting_ , he texts the group, _Louis’ room in ten minutes._

And then he knocks on Louis’ door and waits.

It was maybe a little shady of him to act like he has something serious to say about Actual Band Things, but then he thinks about the impression they must have left today, and resolves that it is band business, actually, and they need to sort this before anything gets worse. He isn’t sure how he’s going to solve it, exactly, but someone needs to put Louis in his place, and Liam figures that’s kind of been his job for ages, anyway.

He isn’t expecting the door to swing open right away, but it does. Louis looks one part wary and four parts annoyed, walking back into his room and leaving Liam to catch the heavy door before it closes again. “Hey,” says Liam.

“Did you come to have a chat or what?” snaps Louis.

Well, thinks Liam, unsurprised, it was worth a shot, at least. “I came because you acted like a brat today,” he says, tone even. He registers, in the back of his mind, that he sounds dead furious.

Louis rolls his eyes anyway. “Thanks for the insight,” he shoots back. “Really helpful, love it.”

“You’re so annoying!” bursts out Liam, and feels it deep in his gut, the frustration that’s quickly giving way to the urge to do something about it, to shut Louis up, to make him stop bloody talking so much and just admit what’s wrong. He stalks forward and sits in the desk chair, tapping frenetically at his jeans to give his hands something to do that isn’t strangling Louis.

Louis ignores him, turning around and continuing to line up shot glasses, which is what he must have been doing before Liam walked in. “Seriously?” complains Liam.

Louis spins on his heel and walks back to Liam, standing right in front of the chair, a mean glint in his eye. “Are you going to drink with me,” he asks, “or are you going to keep being a terrible bore? Because I’m not bothered either way, but no one’s making you stay here.”

And just like that, Liam’s had enough.

As Louis huffs and turns back around, Liam reaches out, lightning quick, and snatches at his wrist. “Hey,” says Louis, but the protest isn’t even halfway out of his mouth before Liam is tugging Louis down into his lap and pulling his other wrist behind his back, too, until Louis is pinned and sitting precariously on Liam’s thighs.

“What the fuck?” demands Louis, already squirming, but Liam tucks his wrists into one of Liam’s hands and squeezes them together so tightly that Louis hisses, and only then does he let up.

His other hand comes to rest on Louis’ side, and it spans across most of the left side of his ribcage. “You’re acting like a child,” says Liam, and he doesn’t want to hurt Louis--would never want to, can’t imagine any world where he could--but he does want to teach him a lesson. Something he won’t forget soon.

“Ha,” says Louis, “very funny, whatever, let me go.”

He’s still squirming, still mouthing off. Liam adjusts his grip, intent on holding Louis still, and when his hand squeezes into Louis’ side Louis gasps out a giggle.

It feels impossible in the tense room, but Louis had jolted like he’d been shocked, and Liam does it again, deliberately, squeezing playfully at the curve of Louis’ waist.

“Oh my god,” gasps Louis, all in a rush like it’d been punched out of him, and then, “fuck off.” He’s squirming much more actively now, especially when Liam doesn’t stop tickling, fingers niggling into Louis’ side. Louis is twisting and cursing but he must realize at some point that he has virtually no leverage, because he switches to a vitriolic tirade about how awful Liam is. It would hurt except that he’s laughing as he says it, and it takes the sting out of it. “Let go of me,” demands Louis, kicking his feet out, but they barely brush the floor.

“No,” answers Liam evenly, pinching Louis’ hip over and over, and it feels good to have him pinned and laughing, like a release of tension.

Louis fucking hates being tickled, but none of them have really gotten the chance to ever do it properly. He’s too slippery, too pinchy. Even now, he’s reaching back to try to nip at Liam’s stomach, but his hands are at an awkward angle, tangled together where they’re pressed to the small of his back. Liam skates his fingers over Louis’ ribs through his t-shirt and the resulting full body shudder comes with a high pitched whine and a flush marking the back of Louis’ neck.

He’s about to go for Louis’ stomach when there’s a knock at the door, and Louis struggles again, trying to twist out of Louis’ grip. “Fuck off!” he yells, maybe to Harry and Niall or maybe just to Liam.

Regardless, Liam elevates his voice, says, “come in, it’s open!” and giggles a little at Louis’ disgruntled huff.

“At least let me go, then, Liam, jesus.”

Liam does nothing of the sort, and Harry and Niall look wary as they file in and take in the scene in front of them. “Why are you sitting in Liam’s lap?” asks Niall, and Louis flushes again, darker this time.

“I’m not doing this on _purpose_ ,” he insists, yanking at his arms again. “Liam won’t let me up.”

“Okay,” says Harry, slowly. “But why?”

Louis mutters something to Liam that sounds like _don’t you fucking dare_ but Liam says, rather jovially, “I’m tickling him, and he’s going to stay put and deal with it until I’m done teaching him a lesson for being such a brat.”

To demonstrate, he starts scrabbling at Louis’ stomach, and, predictably, Louis kicks and kicks and starts to gasp with laughter, ducking his head to hide his face and pulling as hard as he can against Liam’s grip. Liam doesn’t stop for a good thirty seconds, though, until Louis’ laughter starts to get loud and desperate.

Harry and Niall both are wide-eyed, but Harry’s mouth is curling into a tiny smirk. “Go on,” says Liam, on a hunch. “He isn’t going anywhere.”

“You sure?” asks Harry, and he addresses it to Liam but he’s looking at Louis’ face as he says it, eyes intent.

Louis stiffens at being addressed like he isn’t in the room, and even further when he sees Harry walking toward him, but he doesn’t say anything, just shifts in Liam’s lap. “All right?” murmurs Liam, just to Louis.

Louis nods shakily, the tiniest of gestures, and then clenches his jaw again, facing forward. “This isn’t funny,” he says, trying to curl in on himself, but he doesn’t say no, and he should’ve known better than to give Harry an opening like that.

“If it’s not funny,” he teases, and the rings on his fingers glint in the light as he squeezes Louis’ sides, forcing him to curl up even more, “then why are you laughing?” And Louis is, great, gulping laughs that shake his frame, choking out protests in between them when he can catch his breath.

“Stop,” he begs, grin stretched wide across his face. “God, stop it,” but Harry just settles onto his haunches so he’s comfortable and amps it up, tickling harder, faster, until Louis is wheezing and Liam is starting to worry he’ll actually manage to pull free with how much he’s jumping around.

Finally, finally, Harry pulls away, giggling a bit himself. “It’s only fair,” he explains to Louis, “that we get to do this, since you’ve been insufferable.”

Louis’ expression is a bit dark, but Liam knows him well enough to see the embarrassment he’s trying to cover up. “What,” teases Liam gently, “can’t take a little tickling?” He punctuates it by burrowing his fingers into Louis’ armpit, and Louis nearly goes through the roof, going straight from stoic to begging.

“Please,” he’s saying, and it spills right out of him the longer Liam goes, “oh my god, please, I can’t,” half of the words muddled with laughter, giggles rising in pitch as Liam presses harder. “Liam, I swear, oh my god-”

But the funny thing is, Louis has stopped squirming away, instead sinking back into Liam’s lap and throwing his head back against Liam’s shoulder, laughing openly. “Oh my god,” he repeats, half-hysterical, feet still kicking uselessly in the air, but it’s like the fight’s gone out of him.

“Didn’t know he was this ticklish,” says Niall, over Louis’ continued laughter. “Look at him, he’s going out of his mind.”

He is, and hearing his giggles trip into each other is doing wonders for Liam’s mood. Where before he was upset, angry, frustrated, now he’s mostly amused and determined. Louis acted like a child, so Liam and the others are treating him like one. Not to mention that Liam is having fun.

He finally stops, using both hands to secure Louis’ hands behind his back, and Louis sags, probably tired from having been tensed up for so long. “Are you going to behave?” asks Liam, and he isn’t totally sure what he means by it.

It doesn’t end up mattering anyway, because Louis shakes his head no, and he isn’t even trying to get away. Something pings in the back of Liam’s mind that sounds suspiciously like _is he enjoying this?_ but he puts it aside for now, nodding to Niall instead. “This isn’t ending until you agree to behave or until you’re laughing so hard you’re crying,” says Liam, right in Louis’ ear, and there’s no way he’s making up the way a shiver runs straight down Louis’ spine, or the way he shifts in Liam’s lap and crosses his legs.

“Fuck you,” retaliates Louis, almost sweetly, and Niall takes that as his queue.

“You really were awful today,” says Niall, and he goes right for the space between Louis’ armpits and his ribs, a spot that sends him howling with laughter immediately, twisting side to side and trying to dislodge Niall.

Niall stops quickly, but the look on his face means trouble. “You know,” he muses, “this would be easier if he was on the bed. Probably more comfortable for you, too, Payno.”

Liam thinks about Louis spread out on the bed, face red and entire body squirming as he laughs, and thinks _yeah. Yeah._

“My thighs were getting sore, anyway,” he agrees, and stands up just like that. Louis wobbles and tips dangerously, but Liam’s vice grip on his wrists keeps him upright. Surprisingly, Louis doesn’t protest on the way to the bed, maybe also appreciating the change in comfort, and he’s almost docile as Liam transfers his grip until Louis is lying on his back in the center of the bed and Liam is sitting up against the headboard, one wrist in each hand pressed down against the duvet. He can’t really reach Louis from this position, but he figures Niall and Harry both can do more than enough to keep him laughing.

“Well,” says Louis, after a moment where they’re all just standing around looking at each other. “Are you going to get to it, or are you just going to stand there like knobs?”

He’s goading them, marvels Liam. He’s pushing them to move things along. He could be trying to get it over with quicker, but it doesn’t seem likely with the flush high on his cheeks. When Louis is genuinely upset, he gets mean, cruel, cutting. Not this playful tease. Not this lack of resistance.

Liam thinks to what he said before, to seeing Louis laugh until he cries, and he can’t quite get that image out of his head. “Get to it, then, boys,” says Liam, and this way he can see Louis’ face as he reacts to every touch. It’s nice to see the mouth that was set into a grimace for so much of the day curling up into a begrudging smile, wider and wider until giggles are pouring out and he’s hiding his face in his outstretched arm.

“I’m barely touching him,” marvels Harry, whose hand has snuck up under the hem of Louis’ shirt and is tracing patterns over his sides. Louis keeps twitching, face scrunching up until his eyes are no more than slits.

Harry doesn’t let up for ages, and Louis doesn’t stop squirming restlessly on the bed the entire time, but he hasn’t asked them to stop once since they switched locations. It’s only when Louis coughs through his laughter that Harry retracts his hands, and Liam loosens his grip to give Louis a bit of a rest.

Louis doesn’t even try to free himself, just lies back and gets his breathing back under control. His cheeks are a hectic red, probably hot to the touch.

“Had enough?” asks Liam quietly, because he wants to push but not if it hurts Louis.

“Wrists are a bit sore, if I’m being honest,” he says, but that’s it, doesn’t complain about the tickling or the holding him down or any of it.

Liam peers down at his upside down face. “If I let your wrists go, will you give them back in a bit?”

He expects some kind of sass, but Louis just looks at him carefully and nods, and something in his expression is soft and open enough that Liam lets him go. Louis doesn’t look mutinous or even vaguely scheming as he gently rubs the feeling back into his wrists, twisting them around. “Thanks,” he murmurs, practically demure, and lifts his wrists back up over his head, nudging them into Liam’s waiting hands.

He’s gorgeous like this. Liam can’t wait to take him the rest of the way apart.

“Harry,” he says, “grab his wrists for me?”

Harry complies easily, taking Liam’s place, and then Liam is standing above Louis and thinking about how beautiful he looks when he’s writhing around like he isn’t sure if wants to get away or beg for more. How he wants to see that again.

Liam directs Niall to the other side of the bed, and on an unspoken count they each poke and prod and Louis’ sides, twenty fingers in total wiggling and making him squirm, and he bursts into laughter more easily than before, like the fight has been tugged right out of him. A few minutes in, some of Louis’ laughs start to sound a bit like gasping, and Liam thinks _a little more, a little more._

He has one hand vibrating on Louis’ rib cage and the other squeezing at his hip when Louis squeezes his eyes shut tightly and a tear leaks back into his hair. Liam moves his hands fast, faster, until Louis is shouting and twisting and laughing so loud the people three rooms over must be able to hear.

He’s trying to say something, Liam realizes after a while, and he lets up enough to allow Louis the breath to gasp, “okay, okay, okay, enough.”

“You’re so cute when you’re laughing, though,” pouts Liam, but he’s already slowing down, touches lighter and gentler until he’s more or less stroking at Louis’ side, just enough friction to make Louis shiver and for goosebumps to appear on his skin, but not enough to keep him crying with laughter.

Niall does the same on the other side, then pulls away. “Cuter than when you were making other people cry, I guess,” he mutters, but it’s fond under the reproach.

Louis looks away, hides his face. “That was shit of me,” he admits. “Today was shit.”

Harry releases his hands, and Louis rubs at his face and then pulls them into his chest, curled up close to his body. “Not really an excuse though, is it,” murmurs Harry, and it’s so gentle Louis doesn’t even flinch. Harry reaches down to pet at his hair and Louis arches into it like a cat, like the overload of touch made him more affectionate, needier.

Niall pokes his side again, just once, playful, and Louis twitches and then groans. “Quit it,” he mumbles, half into the duvet. “I feel like I’ve just run a bloody marathon.”

His abs must be sore from all the laughing, thinks Liam, and nearly giggles himself with how absurd that is. “So,” he says, “you’ve learned your lesson, then?”

“Is that really what this was about?” asks Louis, raising a challenging eyebrow.

“Well,” answers Liam, “that, and someone had to put you in your place. Worked, though, didn’t it?”

Louis shrugs, but a tiny, tiny smile is tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Didn’t it?” asks Liam again, wiggling his fingers teasingly over Louis’ tummy.

“Okay,” says Louis quickly, batting Liam’s hand away, “okay, okay, yes, it did. I’ll always behave, for the rest of forever. Pinky swear.”

“Better not pinky swear that, mate,” offers Harry, sage as ever. “Bit dangerous, innit? Like, tempting fate.”

Louis makes a face like _when have I ever avoided tempting fate?_ And when he puts it like that, he really does have a point. And anyway, it doesn’t seem like he hated every bit of it, especially with how relaxed he looks right now, how pleased with himself.

“If we’re not actually gonna have a band meeting,” says Harry, “I’ve got a Skype date to get to.”

Niall looks at Harry, and then at Louis, and then at Liam, and nods quickly. “I should go, too,” he says, and he and Harry walk out more or less together, leaving Liam and Louis alone in the room.

“You leaving, too?” asks Louis lazily, but there’s an edge in his voice that Liam can’t parse.

He shrugs, carefully nonchalant. “Wasn’t going to.”

Louis nods to himself, still splayed out on the bed, eyes down like he’s thinking hard about something. “C’mere,” he says to Liam, even though Liam is standing right next to the bed.

He sits down at the edge of it, anyway, close enough that he can feel the heat of Louis’ side up the line of his thigh. It’s only when he looks down that he realizes that Louis is half-hard in his jeans. “Oh,” he says, blinking. His brain feels white-hot and overwhelmed, like he’d gone and stuck his finger in a power socket.

“Gonna sort me out?” asks Louis, and it’s almost as shy as it is stubborn.

“Reckon I should,” answers Liam. “Better finish what I started.” It’s only a hunch, that Louis was even harder before they gave him a chance to breathe, but the way Louis’ eyes go dark and hot is enough to assure him he’s on the right track. “What part was it?” he asks, genuinely curious, slipping a hand over Louis’ thigh. He pushes it down into the bed as he continues. “Was it the holding you down? Keeping you still?”

Louis whines high in his throat, choked-off and almost definitely unintentional, eyes fluttering closed.

Liam’s fingers flutter gently at the side of his hip, and Louis squirms away and then closer with a ragged pant. “Or was it the tickling?”

“Liam,” begs Louis, hands fisting in the sheets at his sides.

Liam shushes him gently. “Can you hold still for me?” he asks, right as he gently cups Louis’ jeans, feels exactly how hard he’s gotten.

Louis hisses and whines again, but he doesn’t move. “Yeah,” he pants. “Yeah, I- I can.”

Liam keeps his touches light, teasing, hears Louis whimpering like he can’t help it. He’s always been vocal but this is a whole new level, and it leaves Liam reeling with how hot it is.

“I’ve got you,” says Liam, and he swings a leg over until he’s on top of Louis, straddling him. He grinds down once, slowly, and it’s hot and heavy and mind-blowingly perfect, the pressure along with the visual of Louis trying desperately to keep his cool, just because Liam asked him to.

And then Liam leans down and kisses him, and he realizes that it’s the first time they’ve kissed all night; he keeps rutting down, though, smooth rocks giving way to a sharper, quicker rhythm. They’re basically panting into each other’s mouths by now, but it’s so intimate that Liam has to shut his eyes just to stop from blushing. “Liam,” says Louis, “Liam, oh my god,” and he must have been hard for ages, ever since Liam tugged him into his lap. He feels it every time they press together.

“Fuck, I’m close,” bites out Louis, and then his entire body tenses up under Liam, eyes squeezing shut as he rides it out. The sound he makes as he comes is going to be fueling Liam’s dreams for weeks, probably.

Liam is only a tiny bit ashamed to rut frantically against Louis’ thigh after that, chasing his own orgasm. It doesn’t take long before stars burst behind his eyelids, and the comedown is almost as intense as the orgasm itself, leaving him breathless and boneless where he flops down against Louis.

“Jesus,” says Louis. “I haven’t come in my pants since I was sixteen.”

Liam can’t help but smile. “It was fun, though, right?”

Louis huffs a quiet laugh. “I need to sleep for like twenty years to recover from all that."

“Save the sleep for after a shower, maybe,” says Liam, grimacing at the sticky feeling. He’s still wearing his jeans. He’s pretty sure if he doesn’t take them off soon they’re going to be stuck to his junk forever, and he can’t think of anything less sexy than that.

Louis moans and groans a bit, his usual contrary self, but agrees.

They end up showering together by some unspoken agreement that goes from how many times they’ve seen each other naked all the way to the thread of trust that pulls them together like an elastic band. _No shenanigans in the shower_ , thinks Liam, but he needn’t have worried, the two of them too tired to do much more than take turns under the spray.

It’s after, when they’re both curled up in Louis’ bed, Liam in a too-short pair of borrowed joggers and nothing else, that Liam rewinds. “You were really upset earlier,” he says gently.

Louis doesn’t bristle, doesn’t roll his eyes or tense up. “Yeah,” is all he says, and he sounds small.

“Why?” asks Liam, and it’s barely a whisper.

Louis shrugs one shoulder. “Homesick,” he says, “tired, sick of having to be perfect all the time. The usual fucked up stuff that’s going on in my head.”

Liam sighs, mostly unsurprised. “You’re not fucked up,” he says firmly, and repeats it when Louis looks away. “I mean it, you’re not. If anything, this job is fucked up. We’re never home and we never get to sleep and we’re expected to be nothing but grateful.”

“We’re lucky,” murmurs Louis. “I don’t hate this. I don’t want to stop. I just need a break.”

Liam nods and tucks closer, looping an arm around Louis’ waist. Louis tips his head forward to rest against Liam’s chest, and Liam can feel the steady puffs of breath, slower as he falls asleep. “Soon,” he says, once Louis is mostly knocked out for the night. “We’ll get to rest soon.”

_No more making people cry_ , he adds in his mind, but smirks to himself just the tiniest bit. Surely Louis learned his lesson about that.

He wants to ask if this is just a one time thing, if they’ll ever do it again, but sleep pulls him under inexorably, eyelids drooping, and he resolves to deal with it all after they’ve both, finally, gotten some rest.


End file.
